


Thicker Than Water

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-25
Updated: 2002-03-25
Packaged: 2018-11-20 05:09:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A visit to the supermarket nearly ends in tragedy for Langly and Byers.





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Thicker Than Water

## Thicker Than Water

#### by Allison

Title: Thicker Than Water  
Author: Allison  
Feedback to:   
Author's Website: http://netjeru.ma-at.net/SurrealArts/Annex.html  
Date Archived: 03/25/02  
Category: Unclassified     
Pairing: Langly/Byers         
Rating: Not Rated  
Spoilers:   
Permission to Archive: Lone Slasher, Basement, WWOMB, Gossamer, Ephemeral  
Series or Sequel/Prequel:   
Notes:   
Warnings:   
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.  
Summary: A visit to the supermarket nearly ends in tragedy for Langly and Byers.

* * *

**THICKER THAN WATER**

Thursday  
6 PM 

It was just starting to get dark as Langly pulled the VW van off the expressway and into the parking lot of the supermarket. The blond man drove slowly up and down the rows of parked cars looking for a space, muttering in frustration. Beside him in the passenger seat, Byers ignored the monotonous complaints as he concentrated on finishing the shopping list. 

Finally with a whoop of triumph Langly spotted an empty space about a hundred yards from the store entrance and slotted the van neatly into the space. He turned to the other man with a satisfied grin. "Not bad, hey, John? C'mon, let's go." 

"Yeah, just a minute, let me make sure I haven't forgotten anything .." 

Langly opened the driver's door and jumped out, followed a couple of minutes later by Byers, who handed him a piece of paper. "Here's your half of the list, Ringo. And DON'T get anything that's not on the list, okay? 

"Sure, mom, yeah, mom . . ." 

Byers swatted at Langly's backside in affectionate exasperation as he followed his energetic friend towards the entrance. 

Inside they split up, taking half the list each by mutual consent and heading for different sides of the store. Byers watched Langly's retreating back view fondly. Langly would take twice as long to do half as much. A kid in a candy store . . . the phrase could have been written for Ringo Langly. Taking every day at top speed, grabbing at life as if every day might be his last. 

Langly took his shopping cart towards the back of the store at a speed just short of a run, doing everything in overdrive as usual, especially when it was a chore he disliked. At least John had given him the interesting half of the list . . . breakfast cereal, cookies, potato chips, pizza . . . I get to choose all my favorite munchies, Johnny gets the soap, toilet tissue and the bathroom cleaner. 

He allowed himself a round of his favorite supermarket game, which involved standing at ever increasing distances from his shopping cart and throwing all the unbreakable items into it. He finished with his best score yet, a packet of Snickers bars from twenty paces into a shopping cart that now more resembled a landfill site. Byers' shopping cart, he knew, would in contrast be packed as neatly as the geometric shapes in a game of Tetris. 

He grabbed the latest new breakfast cereal with cookies, three types of chocolate chip and marshmallow pieces. A second thought, and he regretfully put it back on the shelf. Experience had shown him that Byers WOULD make him go and put it back. A third thought, and he took it down again. John was SO cute when he got that disapproving look. It'll be worth it . . . I'll sulk for a while, then he'll forgive me, and I'll let him forgive me again tonight . . . 

He was lost in a daydream of just HOW he would allow Byers to forgive him tonight when he was jerked back to the present by a yell from the front of the store. A hoarse voice yelling something unintelligible . . . then shots. 

"John! Johnny's always way quicker than me. He'll be waiting out there . . ." 

Then the screaming started. 

===000=== 

Byers had just paid at the checkout and was loading his bags back into the shopping cart, smiling goodbye to the woman who had been in line behind him. He had felt guilty about not letting her go first, as she had only one small basket. And she's old enough to be your mother, his conscience scolded him. He looked over her head, trying but not really expecting to see Langly yet, and barely noticed the very tall, very thin guy in line behind her with his hands in his pockets, face almost entirely hidden by a hooded sweatshirt. 

He had turned to look out the window, idly trying to check on the van, when it started. With his back to the checkout, the first he knew was a yell from behind him, something pushing him hard between the shoulder blades and knocking him to his knees, then a high pitched scream that went on and on. 

After that it all happened so quickly; the sight of the tall guy thrusting a gun in the face of the checkout girl, yelling threats at the top of his voice; the continuing screaming of the woman who had fallen against him and knocked him over; yells and screams of confusion from other customers as realisation spread. Byers struggled free of the older woman, slipping on smashed packages and broken bottles and puddles of liquid; seeing the scenario unfold before him with the numb certainty that there was nothing he could do. 

Then the shooting started; and the world exploded in a mist of red. Something hit him a hammer blow in the chest and he collapsed again to the floor, his head slamming against the side of the checkout desk with stunning force and he lost consciousness. 

===000=== 

Langly raced up to the checkout and skidded to a halt, the horrifying scene unfolding before him. 

The checkout girl was slumped on the floor, moaning, both hands clasped across a bloody wound in her stomach. 

A middle aged woman was kneeling in the middle of a scattered heap of groceries, sobbing and trembling in shock. 

The shooter was lying on his back by the checkout, a bloody hole in his forehead, a gun lying a few inches from his outstretched hand. 

Over him stood a stocky middle aged man in a combat jacket, a pistol in his hand still pointed at the downed man, his police badge held up in his other hand. 

And a few feet away Byers lay on his face in a spreading pool of crimson, still and quiet. 

===000=== 

**"JOHN!"**

The cop swung towards him. "Police! Stay where you are, sir." 

Langly raised his hands. "Please, that's my friend over there. Let me go to him." 

The cop gave him an assessing stare. "Okay." 

Langly vaulted the checkout counter in a single leap, landed awkwardly and stumbled shakily across the few feet separating him and Byers. "John, oh my God, John . . ." 

He flung himself down beside Byers in the sticky dark red puddle. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he reached out. Wetness soaked through his jeans as he reached out to touch the still shoulder. Behind him he could hear the cop calling for backup, for medical assistance. God, let them be in time! 

He could hardly make his hands do what he needed them to do. He stiffly reached out, took Byers in his arms and turned him over. Byers' eyes were shut, but he was still breathing in shallow gasps. The whole of the front of his shirt was soaked red. Langly was afraid to look for the source. He pulled his friend against him, cradling him gently, one hand searching frantically for a pulse in the neck and feeling almost dizzy from relief when he found it, faint and unsteady. 

//This can't be happening, it's not real . . . please, God, no . . . it's not fair, we've only been together a couple years . . . don't take him away from me now . . .I never told him I love him . . oh God, I don't know what to do . . .Johnny always said we should take a course in first aid. . . gotta stop the bleeding . . .// 

Fumbling with the buttons on the shirt, pulling the soaked cotton aside, he ran his hand carefully down the labouring chest. Blood was trickling from a ragged wound at the top of Byers' chest, a few inches below the base of his throat, but not nearly enough to account for all the blood. God, John, what's happened to you? He realised that his own hands were covered in blood, the sleeves of his sweatshirt soaked in it, and suddenly he wanted to throw up. He swallowed hard. Johnny needs you, hold on, focus . . . suddenly as if a switch had been thrown, he knew what do do; and skinning out of his shirt, wadded it up and pressed it firmly against the bloody wound. 

He stroked his fingers down Byers' face, needing to feel the familiar sensations, the warmth of his skin and soft hair of his beard. If only John would open his eyes, speak to him, tell him everything would be okay . . . He still couldn't believe this was really happening. He had never felt so helpless or scared in his life. He pulled Byers' soaked shirt off him, searching with sick apprehension for another wound, another bullet hole. Was the bullet still in him . . . where would the exit wound be . . . oh god, if it's in his lung . . . he could die before the ambulance gets here . . . He wasn't aware he was speaking out loud. 

"God, John, please don't die. I love you, please don't die." 

Byers twitched and coughed, one hand moving, searching, and Langly caught it in his own and bent down so his mouth was next to Byers' ear. "Johnny, can you hear me, it's Ringo. John, you're gonna be okay, just hang in there, the ambulance's on the way. Just hold on, babe, I'm here." 

Byers' hand squeezed his own and a frown creased his forehead as his eyes slowly opened. "Ringo . . . what happened?" 

"There's been a shooting, you stopped a bullet. Just lie still, try not to talk." 

"No, I'm okay . . ." Incredibly Byers was moving, struggling feebly in his arms, trying to get up. "The cashier, she was hit . . ." 

"Godsake, Johnny, lie still, you've been shot!" He looked around wildly. "Need some help here! John, you're losing a lot of blood. Please, stay still." 

"No, I'm okay, gotta get up . . . " Torn between restraining him and hurting him, Langly let him sit up a little, supporting him against his chest. Perhaps it would help him breathe. People were moving now, emerging from hiding places; a security guard - where had he been when he was needed! - was helping the sobbing woman to her feet, and a young guy who looked like he might have been a medical student was kneeling over the checkout girl, now lying ominously still on the floor. 

Sirens outside, flashing lights and the welcome sight of paramedics shouldering their way through the gawping crowds of onlookers. One rushed straight to the checkout girl, another headed towards Langly's shout. 

"Over here! Help, please, here!" 

She was a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman, reassuringly confident in demeanour as she knelt down beside them, checking Byers' vital signs, asking him his name, shining a light in his eyes, checking him all over for injuries as Langly had done a few minutes earlier. Byers was answering her questions in a shaky but coherent voice, fully aware now of his surroundings. She helped him into a sitting position, his back leaning against the checkout desk. 

Langly could barely contain his panic. "Where's he hurt? Lady, he needs to get to the hospital right now, what are you waiting for? He's bleeding to death here!" 

She flicked him a quick glance of sympathy as she firmly applied pressure to the wound on Byers' chest, but not for a second stopping what she was doing. "Just let me do my job here, sir, your friend's doing okay, he's going to be fine." 

"What do you mean, fine? He's got a bullet in him! He should be on his way to the hospital!" 

Byers coughed slightly and pushed against Langly's restraining arm. "She's right, Ree . . . I'll be okay, don't look so worried." 

"Johnny . . ." 

The medic slapped a dressing on Byers's chest wound and smiled down at him. "Just stay there, Mr Byers, you're gonna be fine but I want you to come down to the ER for a check up. Looks like you might need a couple stitches in that cut. Just hang in there." And she was scrambling to her feet, looking already for the next patient. 

Langly grabbed her arm. "But . . . look at all the blood, he needs blood . . ." 

She smiled broadly at him, suddenly looking twenty years younger. "If that came out of him, my friend, I'd really be worried." She bent down and picked up a piece of broken glass with a label adhering to the curved side. "California Zinfandel 2000 - looks like it was a good year!" 

"Wine . . . it was wine . . ." 

Suddenly weak at the knees and speechless, Langly subsided to the floor beside Byers. He buried his head in his hands, relief making him as dizzy as the fear had. Suddenly his stomach heaved, nausea swept over him and he tasted bile in his throat. The smell . . . he had always hated the smell of red wine. God, why hadn't he realised? 

A familiar touch on his arm, a well-known hand sliding round his shoulders, and he looked up to see Byers looking anxiously at him. The other man shifted to sit beside him and pulled him close. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, just incredibly relieved that they were both alive. 

Langly pulled Byers even closer, resting his chin on the top of the other man's head and breathing deeply. He drew back, his nose wrinkling. "Euuwwhh . . . even your hair's soaked in this stuff." 

Byers sighed tiredly. "At least it wasn't blood." 

"Mm. God, I don't know why I didn't realise. You stink." 

Byers laughed softly. "You were freaking out. I could hear you, even before I opened my eyes." 

Langly blushed furiously. "You could have told me, instead of letting me make a fool of myself." 

"Ree, I didn't know. I felt something hit me, I thought . . I thought I was dying. And then I heard your voice, telling me to hold on." 

Langly breathed in relief. As long as that was ALL John had heard. He looked away, distracted by the sight of a second team of paramedics wheeling the still figure of the checkout girl away on a gurney. That could have been John . . . he heard a choking sound from Byers and looked round in panic. His friend had his hands over his face, his body trembling. 

"Johnny, it's okay, you're okay, it's just the shock -" his jaw dropped as Byers looked up at him. His face was screwed up in . . . laughter? Langly stared at him in astonishment as Byers began to laugh at him. "Oh Ree . . . " he was laughing so hard he couldn't speak. "You thought it was blood . . . " 

Langly felt an unreasoning rush of anger. "Yeah, I was worried about you, okay? I thought you were bleeding to death, okay? Pretty dumb, huh?" 

Byers gasped for breath, tried to stop for a second but broke up again in giggles. "Sorry, Ree, it's just . . . . omigod, the look on your face .." 

Langly gaped at his friend, hurt and resentful. He gives me a fright like this, I think he's dead and all he can do is laugh at me, the bastard. . . he turned his head away. "Fuck, John, it's not funny!" 

Byers stopped as if he had been slapped. His mouth fell open and he stared at the angry young man, taking in for the first time his shirtless condition, his soaked jeans and his hands and arms stained with a mixture of wine and blood, his naturally pale face even whiter than usual. Langly was shivering, whether from cold, shock or anger it was impossible to say. It acted like a bucket of cold water on Byers, bringing him abruptly back to reality. "God, Ringo, I'm sorry, I guess I'm in shock . . ." 

Langly had his head turned away, one hand wiping over his face. But when Byers put his hand on his shoulder, he reached behind him and grabbed his lover's hand and squeezed it hard. Byers leaned his back against the checkout desk and put his arm back round Langly, holding him tight. 

They were still sitting like that, side by side, in silence, when the paramedic came back. "Mr Byers . . . if you can walk out to the ambulance, we're ready to head back to Washington General now." 

Byers started to lever himself to his feet, but Langly was there already, one hand reaching for him, pulling him up, one arm going round him protectively as his anger was forgotten. Byers leaned against him, and supporting each other they walked slowly away from the scene of carnage, the living and the dead. 

===000=== 

Two hours later, after Byers had been examined in the ER, x-rayed and had six stitches in his chest wound and had several pieces of glass removed from it and other minor cuts, they were finally allowed to leave the ER; and having managed to avoid giving a statement to the police ("I had my back to the checkout the whole time, officer, I didn't see anything") they climbed wearily back into the van to head home. 

Byers shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat. "God, I just want to get home and have a shower." 

"Me too, I got that shit all over me too." 

Byers chuckled. "Sorry Ree, too bad. I know you don't like red wine." 

Langly bit his lip. He was still more shaken than he wanted to admit, and wasn't ready to be teased about it yet. "Please, John, I feel stupid enough about this already." 

Byers looked across at him and his expression softened. "Ree . . . I heard what you said." 

"Huh?" 

"When you thought I was unconscious. I heard what you said." He reached out and put his hand on Langly's thigh, squeezing gently. "I love you too, Ree." 

Langly felt his throat grow tight and he had to swallow hard. He took one hand off the steering wheel and put it over Byers'. 

"I know." 

Byers leaned towards him, and they kissed softly, intensely. Byers pulled Langly close, and they hugged each other tight for a long moment in sheer relief. Langly whispered "God, I was so scared . . ." 

Byers squeezed him tight then broke away, a small smile on his face. 

"C,mon, let's go home." 

**END**

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Allison 


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